


Life is a Poem

by codarra



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codarra/pseuds/codarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek likes to rile Stiles up in their poetry class. And then Lydia partners with Derek in their business class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life is a Poem

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little ditty I wrote for a friend a while back.

“What am I gonna do?” 

Stiles chucked his backpack to the floor beneath the table in the library, not caring that his voice wasn’t exactly quiet enough to be in said library. Most of the students around him did give him the stink eye, though, so maybe he should care. But he didn’t. He was in a sea of misery. He just barely refrained from telling them all to turn up their iPods if they didn’t want to hear him. 

“You could grow a pair and just ask him out,” Lydia said, not looking up from where she was flipping the page of Vogue with a manicured nail. 

Stiles spluttered as he took his seat across from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Of course, he did. She was talking about Derek, the guy in his modern poetry class; the guy who looked like people should be writing poetry about him, and the way his muscles moved when he crossed his arms over his chest when he was settling in for a debate about what an author meant, or when he pressed his fingertips together whenever he disagreed with another student or the professor. Stiles had waxed on about how expressive his eyebrows were, though he had left off the part wherein he had written a poem about them. 

“Uh-huh,” was all Lydia said, turning another page. “Did you forget my coffee?” 

Stiles banged his head on the table. He had forgotten her coffee, because he had been too busy daydreaming about what it would be like to feel those muscles move under his fingertips, and then— 

“If it makes you feel any better, I ran into a lamppost on my way here.” 

Finally Lydia closed her magazine with a snap. “Because you were too busy thinking about the Poet.” 

That’s what the two of them had taken to calling Derek—probably Stiles’ idea; he was full of them, but he didn’t remember anymore—since it was weird to Stiles to know Derek’s name when he was absolutely positive the demigod didn’t know he existed outside of the classroom. Lydia had never met Derek, and Stiles would prefer it stay that way, because if he knew Lydia, they’d be married in a week. That was, if she and Jackson were still on their off period—which he thought they were, but sometimes it was better to just nod and commiserate rather than actually listen to her relationship problems with the guy who decided studying in London was the thing to do. 

“I’m sorry, Lydia! I’ll buy you two next time.” 

“That’s not what I want.” Lydia put the magazine away into her bag. “What I want is for you to something about your guy or to get over it. It’s nearing the end of the semester.” 

“I know…” Stiles wasn’t sure where Lydia was going with this. 

“And he’s only in your modern poetry class, right? He’s not in any of your countless other literature courses?” At Stiles’ confused nod, she continued, “That means he’s either not in our year or in a different major and is taking that as an elective.”

Stiles just blinked at her. 

Lydia huffed and stood up, putting on her jacket. “Stiles, this is Berkley. You probably won’t ever see him again after finals.”

She smiled sadly at him as his eyes widened, almost comically, and patted his head. “Now, since you failed to bring me my coffee, I’m going to cut this rendezvous short. I have a partner thing to get to. My ridiculous business professor thought it would be a good idea for us to make a product with a fake budget and fake supplies… Well, let’s just leave it at a waste of my time. Ta!” 

Stiles just groaned and put his head on the table again. He was pretty sure he could sit there until the end of time—if he could suppress his need for curly fries. 

**********************

Lydia sat down, after ordering her latte, in the little corner coffee shop someone had the bad idea to name “Spill the Beans.” As if coffee shops weren’t ubiquitous enough already, now they had to get cute with the names. 

She looked at her watch, and realising that she was still a few minutes early, got her Vogue out again. There was an article that said parachute pants might be coming back—who did she need to call to make sure that never happened? 

“Hi. Lydia?” 

Lydia looked up to see an incredibly gorgeous guy standing next to her, holding a steaming mug of coffee. Lydia usually wasn’t caught by surprise like this, but this man was something else. The business class she was taking, with this Adonis, apparently, was online—thus the surprise. They had emailed twice; once to decide that a meet up was necessary, and fortunately he was an on-campus student, and the second time to decide on the locale. She was glad that he had decided on a coffeehouse since Stiles was a dweeb who couldn’t remember anything for the life of him. 

“Yes, and you must be—”

“Derek. Derek Hale.” He held out his hand, his very large, masculine hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope I've not kept you waiting long; I was talking with my poetry professor, and sometimes he’s a little verbose.” 

Lydia was just deciding on the best way to give him her number so that they could meet up some other time without the pretense of incredibly inane university projects when what he said processed. 

“Wait. Poetry professor.” She pursed her lips. It couldn’t be. “For which class?” 

“Uh—modern poetry, with Dr Silvas.” 

Lydia slipped her card back in her purse. There’s no way she would do that to Stiles. Though now she understood the hesitation he had toward asking this guy out—he was out of everyone’s league, really. 

“Ah.” She snapped her purse shut and put it back beside her on the other chair. “My roommate is in that class. He seems to enjoy it.” 

Derek smiled, and now Lydia understood the ten minute rant that Stiles had undergone a few days after beginning the course. And the multitudes of texts she seemed to receive. She had once jokingly told him to take a picture of the guy instead of rambling on about him to her, and by the sheer amount of flailing that had occurred, Lydia had a feeling that might have already happened. 

“It’s an enjoyable course,” Derek mused. He seemed to want to say something else but decided against it. 

Lydia hummed at him and took out a notebook. She briefly wondered if she should at least mention Stiles, to see if there was any reaction, but thought that the tongue-lashing she’d receive from Stiles wasn’t worth it. He’d believe that she was trying to undermine him or some such nonsense, and—for probably the third time that day—Lydia wondered why she put up with him and his special brand of crazy.

Later, when the project was well underway, and the product had been decided upon—something simple, that required little thought but would be highly profitable, geared to tweens and teens, the easiest target audience—they were enjoying their second cups of coffee and were just chatting. 

“Thanks, by the way, for agreeing to meet here. I—uh—this guy in my class mentioned it one time, and, it was more of a rave than anything, so I had to try it.” 

Lydia dropped her pen into her coffee cup. Derek raised an eyebrow as she fished it out and wiped it off with a napkin. Stiles had been begging her to try out Spill the Beans for ages; he said that he hated the coffee cart that Lydia always made him go to when she needed her fix—sometimes she felt badly when she sent him off across campus for her caffeine, but the one time she had offered, he had refused, mentioning something about needing to get rid of some energy otherwise she’d really complain about his ADHD. 

“You tried out a coffeehouse based on word-of-mouth?” She gave him a small frown that he apparently didn’t notice. “And did it live up to expectations?” 

“Yeah, actually. It’s great.” He smiled into his cup, a smile that most definitely wasn’t meant for her, before taking another drink. 

Lydia pursed her lips, thoughtful. Could this guy actually be into Stiles? That thought was a little mean, and not exactly how she meant it, but it was still a valid question, no matter how she looked at it. 

“Interestingly, Silvas—the professor—” As if she’d forget. “—was showing me his paper on modern language and its evolution. She told me how she needed more students like him. She laughed and said I wasn’t half bad.”

“Uh-huh,” Lydia said softly, even though it was obvious Derek wasn’t listening to her. Normally, she’d be annoyed that a really hot guy wasn’t paying her any attention, but in this case, she’d let it slide. 

Derek was looking into his cup with that small smile still on his face. 

“He always has something funny to say, and then goes on to have really good insight into the things we read. You’d think he was some sort of literature snob, but he doesn’t have that attitude, you know?” He didn’t look up to see if she agreed. “Silvas likes to have two-sided conversations, debates or whatever, and sometimes I say things to rile him up just to keep him going, even though I usually agree with everything he talks about. He’s—”

Derek finally looked up, clearing his throat to—what? Try and distract her from the soliloquy he’d just given? He caught the look on her face, the one that said he was in deep shit, and his ears tinged pink. 

“And does this wonderful classmate of yours have a name?”

Derek gaped at her, gulping. “Uh—Stiles. I think that’s a nickname, though.”  
Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, or so it felt like when she was mixed up in Stiles’ antics. She slid his notebook over to her side of the table and wrote down some digits. 

“This is his number.” She underlined it twice. “Use it. If you don’t… You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t. You won’t be sorry if you do.” 

Sliding the ringed book back over to him, she slipped off her chair and gathered up her things. Derek sat there, staring at the paper as though it might grow teeth and bite him. 

“You’re both morons.” 

**********************

Lydia was nearly asleep when the door to her bedroom crashed open and the light burst into life. 

“ _Lydia!_ ” 

She smiled. 

fin


End file.
